The building of a library for the 21 century

The building of a library for the 21st century has been a response to certain practical necessities. But in addition to answering these necessities it was deemed right that France should make clear, in the form of an exemplary monument, both her sense of the value of her intellectual heritage and her confidence in the future of books and the act of leading.The library was conceived in the light of two overriding imperatives.The first of these imperatives was self-evident: it was to furnish those engaged in research with the conditions their work deserved. These conditions were something the saturated, superannuated buildings on the rue Richelieu could no longer provide.The second imperative was entirely new: it involved the accommodation of a huge public, people of all ages trained to all kinds of different professions and callings; people eager to deepen their knowledge, to enrich their culture, and to gain access to the documents necessary for their work. It was vital that these newcomers should feel at home in an establishment fully subsidized by the French nation. Researchers and the general public were not to be mixed up. In the cloister surrounding the central garden area, each of those two human entities would occupy a separate floor endowed with book collections. In both cases the most modern information techniques would be placed at their disposal.Moreover, the new library complex would not be isolated on its Paris site, but would be part of a network of libraries extending throughout the country, each communicating fully with the others. […] It took timeless energy to set this project in motion and overcome the resistance it engendred. But here, as in other endeavours, the combination of competence and determination surmounted every obstacle. I also salute the work of Dominique Perrault, the precision of whose reasoning has my respect. The building he has designed is lucid in its symmetry; its lines are restrained, and its spaces and functions are laid out with simplicity. It is hollowed into the ground as if in the quest of silence and peace; yet its towers stand four square to assert its presence in the heart of the city. Between the earth and me sky runs the library’s esplanade, open co all, a broad public space in which people can meet and mingle, of a kind that is all too rare in the new quarters of modern cities. In sum, Dominique Perrault's work is as much a fear of visionary town planning as of architecture. Around in the whole of the Left Bank of the Seine to the east of Paris has been in some sort realigned. […]

Extract of Bibliothèque de France 1989 1995 Dominique Perrault Architecte, arc en rêve centre d’architecture, Artemis, 1995. Book printed on the occasion of the inauguration of the Bibliothèque Nationale de France on March 30, 1995 by François Mitterrand, président de la République française.

A decision to remodel the system

In the past, over a period of many years, the old Bibliothèque nationale steadily inflated, extending its premises, modifying its various levels and leapfrogging the streets in its vicinity. Yet throughout this time, the building which was a model of its type one hundred and forty years ago when Henri Labrouste constructed his remarkable demonstration of steel-framed architecture and rational use of space, remained basically unchanged. The fitness of the Bibliothèque nationale to carry out its function might have remained as satisfactory as ever, had not the world around it altered. First of all, the production of printed books had expanded, as had the production of periodicals of all kinds, generated by fast modern printing techniques. Librarians and ordinary members of the public became interested in new realms of knowledge, by prints from the Far East, representative photography, art photography, and the bases and graphic accompaniments of the arts of the theatre. Illuminated manuscripts from the Middle Ages and the inexhaustible series of copied manuscripts procured by French scholarly endeavor in the 17th and 18th centuries were joined in the library by the literary manuscripts of our own era, the writings and musical scores of composers ancient and modern, and even the kinds of literary and artistic correspondences which shed original, authentic light on both manuscripts and published works.

At the Bibliothèque nationale, the point of saturation was reached. Books were stacked willy nilly, manuscripts were piled in corridors and opportunities to acquire new material were missed because to accept them would prove problematic, such was the state of the old library. It had become an establishment in which the preservation of the national heritage was heavily at risk.

The Bibliothèque nationale had also to some extent migrated from its base. Aspects of it could be seen now at Provins, at Sable, at Avignon, in Cardinal Mazarin's historic palace, in the palace of the Arsenal and in one side of the Palais Garnier. Of course we could have carried on opening annexe after annexe; but this policy would invariably have increased the confusion of the researchers and readers whose needs the establishment is meant to serve.

From the readers' point of view, the consciousness of saturation was at least as keen. The development of university studies and the proliferation of research institutions within France -especially in the Paris area- attracted a far more numerous and motivated public than the earlier, much smaller clientele, which had necessitated no awkward restrictions purely in order to allocate the number of places available. Moreover, people now found themselves with much more leisure, hence more time to spend on library reading. The growth in the numbers of readers is no fault of librarians, who are not the inventors of advanced studies diplomas and early retirement schemes. But it is something they must grapple with, when they see queues forming every morning for table and chair room; queues which represent wasted working hours to those waiting in them, many of whom have come from afar.

Thus a decision to remodel the system became imperative. The siting of the new library was fought over ad infinitum, ditto the question of what should go in one and what should remain in the other. Today these discussions seem utterly

vain: because in two years from now France really will have a great library to match the scale of its needs.

This brand new Bibliothèque nationale de France will be in the first instance one of the principal features of a mighty readjustment of Paris toward the east; Paris which, from the Louvre and the Tuileries to the Étoile and La Défense, has hitherto tended to construct the elements of its prestige, along with the architectural and environmental bases of its economic and social life, on its western side. Given its position on the banks of the Seine, as close to the city's historic heart (Notre-Dame, Pont-au-Change, Châtelet) as are the rond point des Champs-Élysées, Saint-Lazare and the École militaire, the new Library will be only a quarter of an hour from all the national and regional railheads by the new express Meteor line. Thus readers coming in from the provinces will be able to reach it quickly and easily.

The twelve million printed books -consisting of all those printed in France since 1470, and all those from abroad acquired over a period of five hundred years- will be comfortably installed, along with about three hundred thousand collections of periodicals, in the vast storerooms of the library's basement and towers. Half of the available storage space has been set aside for future acquisitions. And three hundred thousand more works are scheduled for acquisition for the "upper" garden library, which will be accessible to all: while the "lower" garden area will remain at the disposal of researchers only, and as such be constantly replenished. The Bibliothèque nationale de France will therefore be a library for all, open to foreigners and French people, Parisians and provincials, scholars and ordinary booklovers alike.

One anxiety about the library was this: that with three thousand six hundred reading places available in a giant bookhall, readers would lack the human-scale working surroundings which they might have expected in a smaller library. But the skilful partioning system of warmly-tinted wood panelling, with ample views of the trees, with reading traffic divided off, should create a feeling of relaxation which will allow the reader to forget the world of concrete outside. Even so it was not enough for us to think big, in terms of a huge public, a giant collection and a great nation. We could not forget the new technologies of our contemporary world. What 20th century man has invented, and what 2Ist century man will invent -which we must forestall- has revolutionized traditional means of access to thought, knowledge and creation. We have witnessed the introduction into our world, in other words into our intellectual practices, of audiovisual technology and computer science. We have witnessed the arrival in our libraries -both personal and public- of racks of records, cassettes and diskettes, which will certainly be augmented by future inventions.

Reading assisted by computers has entered the arsenal of research, not as a substitute for book reading, but as a way of obtaining from a given text what it would never previously have yielded in a human lifetime. The Bibliothèque nationale de France could hardly be indifferent to this, and had it done so readers would certainly have reproached it with the absence of something which adds to the traditional book without in anyway supplanting it.

Hence the new library had to supply not only a new dimension to our original Bibliothèque nationale, but also a whole new concept of our contribution to the civilisation of the Third Millennium. The computer will naturally be an indispensable instrument for our management of men, books and movements. It will be the tool for the public's access to our treasures. But, like the tape recorder and the video machine, it will be an intermediary for a part of our heritage; a tool which will be, like the book itself, fully available to the reader.

In today's world, a library is not only a haven of quiet. It can also be a crucible of science and culture. The thematic departments of it -history, philosophy, human and social sciences, economic, legal and political sciences, technical and exact sciences, literature and art, audiovisual technology- will open the way to research that can be more easily conducted because up-to-date documentation is more readily available. The library's auditorium and meeting rooms will facilitate encounters between men and women of scientific and cultural eminence whose confrontations will reinvigorate our heritage. And hopefully the new quartier to be assembled around the Bibliothèque nationale de France will derive a character of its own from the library's presence, as the Latin Quarter once did from the presence of the Sorbonne. As we know, there are other resources beyond price in the other libraries of France, both in Paris and the provinces. Huge collections are held by cities and universities, which were inherited from the religious establishments of the Ancien Régime or from 19th century collectors; likewise, immense resources have been built up around contemporary centres of specialized research. Something had to be done to place the resources of the community at the disposal of all; and to make known ta people, wherever they happened to be in France, exactly what they could find, and where. The whereabouts of books had to be made common knowledge. The Catalogue collectif de France

(Collective Catalogue of France), now under preparation, will answer this first need, gaining time for the researcher, who today must still travel to and fro without knowing in advance if he really needs to do so. As to the connection with a worldwide information network, currently under preparation, this will offer a cross-border service of the same type. Thanks to the numbering of the texts themselves, consultation at a distance will shortly become feasible. By the day the new Bibliothèque nationale de France opens, two years from now, hundred thousand volumes will already have been numbered. Thus, provided that elementary precautions are made to protect the publishing industry, people will finally be justified in thinking that what is done in Paris is no longer done for Parisians alone.

The Bibliothèque nationale de France has been quite a project. Because of the decision of the président de la République and the strong motivation of three successive governments, aIl of which regarded it as one of the chief priorities of their cultural policy, it has been at the highest level the expression of France's idea of the place of intellectual life in the construction of the world. Thanks to the talents of Dominique Perrault and those who worked with him; thanks to the savoir-faire of the many firms which took part in the building of the library; thanks also to the perfect understanding between the maître d'oeuvre and those who, as professionals in the field, have laboured over the last six years to define what a great modern library should be, this project will shortly be a reality.

Before 1994, there was the duality of a state-run Bibliothèque de France whose purpose was to carry both the project of the new library, and a Bibliothèque nationale which, no less than before, was responsible for its collection and public. Since thatyear, the two have been brought together in one Bibliothèque nationale de France, logically established in its two sites -one of which is devoted to printed and audiovisual material, and the other to manuscripts, prints, photographs, maps and charts, music, coins and medals, and antiques. The dynamic of this reality will permanently enrich its future projects. There can be no question, now, that this instrument for the conservation and proper use of our national heritage is full of promise for the future of France.

Extract of Bibliothèque de France 1989 1995 Dominique Perrault Architecte, arc en rêve centre d’architecture, Artemis, 1995. Book printed on the occasion of the inauguration of the Bibliothèque Nationale de France on March 30, 1995 by François Mitterrand, président de la République française.

The challange of Tolbiac has been met

Everyone is agreed that the timetable set by the directors of the Bibliothèque nationale de France has been respected to the letter -and the construction works, believe it or not, only began in the final months of 1990. l wish to offer my congratulations to ail those who have taken part in the project. The team from the department of public works which supervised it, and the engineers, technicians and workers involved in the construction, have been totally unsparing in their efforts. Their task was extraordinarily ambitious: to create an institution worthy of the collective memory handed down to us, which could both preserve and disseminate ail the basic knowledge accumulated by our culture.

lt was inconceivable that France should not be equal to this great challenge of the turn of the century -and equal to it she was. From now on, the Bibliothèque nationale de France belongs to a highly exclusive circle: that of the greatest libraries in the world.

The sheer scale of this monument, with its towers, its porticos and its esplanade, is simply breathtaking. But it is in the nature of the art of architecture to defy the constraints of time.

In addition to Dominique Perrault’s magnificent design, l wish to acknowledge the inherent quality of this building, and the way its spaces have been distributed. The decision to use wood, the artful manipulation of light and the elegance of the woodland garden dispel any impression of coldness. The architect has laid powerful emphasis on the use of materials which age naturally, and which acquire a certain patina with time, not unlike books. Built to last, this is a library that combines comfort and hospitality, a library which will offer readers a place for working and -why not?-for dreaming too.

May l also take this opportunity or laying to rest a controversy which was ill-grounded from the start. There is strictly no conflict between a library for the use of researchers working on their own, and a library which serves visitors who are merely passing through. Naturally, the legitimate requirements of researchers will be neither discounted nor ignored. They will find in this library not only the best possible working conditions, but also the chance to me et with their fellow researchers, something which is indispensable in this day and age. As a matter of deliberate policy, networks will be available which will bring them into contact with the rest of the national and international scientific community: l refer, in particular, to the various provincial libraries of France.

But its identity as a public service obliges the Bibliothèque nationale de France to provide access to knowledge and scholarship for a much broader cross-section of the public than is constituted by researchers alone. A great library must fulfil two imperatives that are complementary, namely conservation and communication.

Conservation will be facilitated by the bringing together in one place of seventeen million different documents. Among these will be the collections of the Richelieu library, which will be preserved by automated handling. Communication will be encouraged by advanced techniques for transmission and consultation, available from the moment the library opens to the public at the end of 1996. These techniques will propel the Bibliothèque nationale de France into the multimedia era, enabling it to attract a public which would otherwise have little familiarity with the traditional forms of access to knowledge. This is one of the fundamental democratic issues.

This great institution also has a cultural mission of vital importance: it must serve as a centre for exhibitions, exchanges and conferences, which will show the legacy it has inherited to best advantage. In the same way, l hope to see it playing a decisive role in promoting the extent and influence of the French language.

Finally, as everybody knows, the date of the inauguration of the Tolbiac library will be a red letter day for the city of Paris. It is no mean matter that the Bibliothèque nationale de France forms a vital element of the re-alignement of the capital toward the east.

If as Baudelaire says, " ... the aspect of a city changes more rapidly than the heart of a mortal," l am delighted to note that the institutions and cultural elements that will define Paris in the year 2 000 are being put in place today. l am convinced that the new Paris overlays the old one more in our minds than in time, and we need not be melancholy on that account. Lastly, a word of encouragement to all those who, under the supervision of president Favier, must now prepare the opening of the library to the public. l know they will do their work with enthusiasm. Theirs is a burning obligation, in addition to an extraordinary collective adventure -they will contribute to something that is part of the continuity of our culture, and of our history.

Extract of Bibliothèque de France 1989 1995 Dominique Perrault Architecte, arc en rêve centre d’architecture, Artemis, 1995. Book printed on the occasion of the inauguration of the Bibliothèque Nationale de France on March 30, 1995 by François Mitterrand, président de la République française.

At the point of achievement of the "container' and in the expect of the "content", I wish to thank the critics Fredéric Edelmann, Peter Buchanan and Nicola Di Battista for having had the audacity and the courage to "start talking" on and about an architecture in course of achievement, ln a scarcely born district, the opening of which is foreseen for the public only two years later,

Their views, their remarks and their questions are as many contributions to tie this urban and architectural event to its era, and to its time.

While waiting for the real being of this place which shelters "the whole memory of the world", these critics invite us, as the architect Louis Kahn would say, "not to mistake this zebra for a striped horse".

Extract of Bibliothèque de France 1989 1995 Dominique Perrault Architecte, arc en rêve centre d’architecture, Artemis, 1995. Book printed on the occasion of the inauguration of the Bibliothèque Nationale de France on March 30, 1995 by François Mitterrand, président de la République française.